


Monster

by Merayi



Series: TransFormation [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anorexic Kylo (implied), Autistic Kylo Ren, Awkward Crush, Crushes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Transphobia, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, LGBTQ Character, Love, M/M, Self-Hatred, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 11:47:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18637507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merayi/pseuds/Merayi
Summary: It wasn't supposed to go like this. This isn't the end, is it?





	Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Confession: I was dangerously close to falling into "Rey as Cis Saviour", and the whole "Majority saves Minority" trope needs to die. So, while this ended up a lot darker than I intended, I also think it's a necessary step. It puts the ball back in Kyla's court and puts her in the place to decide whether to reach out again or not, and it gives Rey something to think about.

Rey spent a lot of time reading. She had spent even more time reading since the day a fortnight ago when she and Kyla had gone to the library. She had gotten out a lot of books, after all, and the return date was looming. 

Much like she had done for a fortnight, Rey was sitting on the couch with her legs curled up under her, reading one of the short stories out of  _ The Best American Sci-Fi and Fantasy 2019 _ . It was gripping - a story of a living interstellar ship hiding a genderless refugee child from her crew and omnipotent Gods - but nonetheless Rey found herself glancing up at the clock on the wall every few paragraphs. 

Kyla would be here soon. She would be here, in this living room, in this house. She had agreed - although Rey had seen it had scared her to the point of nausea - to hang out at a friend’s house for an afternoon. There was no expectation of activities or games or adventures, just an afternoon spent reading together in the sunny living room and enjoying the flatmates being gone for a couple hours. Rey had even suggested wearing sweatpants or pyjamas - “the coziest clothes you own!” Sitting there braless in her dark grey tank top and long paler-grey flannel pants, she hoped that Kyla had taken her seriously. 

She gnawed on her lip. She looked at the clock. She tried to focus on the  _ Ascending Dawn _ and Li Sin and LK-2875. 

The knock was so quiet that Rey barely registered it. It came again, a mouse-quiet  _ *tap-tap-tap-tap* _ . In a blink, Rey was off the couch, book thrown aside, down the short hall, and to the door. Her fumbling was far louder than the knocking was. 

“Come in!” she said too cheerfully, waving the dark-haired girl toward the living room. A moment later, she looked glumly at the retreating backpack as she followed Kyla into the house. Was the skeleton leggings and the oversize skull t-shirt what she slept in or was Rey just grossly under-dressed? Did the flawless makeup have a function or was it just a fuck you? “Make yourself at home.” She tugged at her tank top with a silly smile. “I have.” 

Ugh. What a ridiculous thing to say. This WAS her home. That was the whole point. 

Standing in the corner of the living room, Kyla swayed like a sapling, one arm looped nervously around the other elbow. She looked out of place, a deep shadow standing in the light. Rey brushed passed behind her, leaving a pheromone-trail of awkwardness. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Rey asked, “A cup of tea? A hot chocolate? A coffee?” 

“Do you have green tea?” Kyla asked through a tiny black hole in her red lips. Why did she have to go and make friends with a foodie again? Why was people’s first response to try to feed you when you came into their houses? Would they even have green tea? Was Rey the kind of person to drink it? Were her flatmates? What would she do if there wasn’t her one acceptable hot drink? Was it okay to ask for just water? She glanced out of the window, to the roiling, black clouds above the city. She would definitely be expected to have a hot drink. 

“Yeah, we do.” Rey hovered by the door-frame between living room and kitchen as Kyla let loose a small breath. “Hang tight. I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Kyla shifted her weight again, and shrugged off her backpack, putting it down by the foot of the three-seater sofa. She perched on the edge of the furthest seat. She looked at her square, veiny hands. She flexed her long, bony fingers. She bit her blunt, chewed thumbnail. She cursed quietly. Time took too long to pass. Was it too rude to just pull out her phone until Rey got back? How much longer would it take, anyway? Had she missed the sound of the kettle boiling, or had it not done so yet? 

But then, Rey was back, and Kyla was wrapping her huge, ugly hands around a clunky mug that read MY DRIVING SKILLS ARE STRAIGHT OUTTA VIDEO GAMES. The heat seeped up her arms. Checking the barely-green brew inside, she cracked a smile, took a sip, and put the mug down on the coffee table. According to Rey’s cup and the smell emanating from it, strong black coffee was her STARTER FLUID. She settled herself on the other side of the couch and tucked her legs under her butt. 

Rey noticed Kyla smiling and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. 

“Christmas present from Finn and Poe. They thought they were being funny.” 

“We were being funny!” Both women jumped. Rey screamed. Kyla cursed out loud. She was losing her mind if she hadn’t even noticed the front door open. How had she not noticed? Had she really been so enamoured with her friend that she had forgotten to be aware what was around her? 

Poe ambled over and ruffled Rey’s hair. Finn shut the door behind them and took off his jacket (well, the jacket that had been Poe’s). He hung it up on the hook on the wall. 

“You didn’t tell us you were having a guest over,” Poe noted, before looking over at said guest. “Hello, Kyla. Nice to see you again.” 

“You didn’t tell me you would be home so early!” Rey shot back, “You’re still supposed to be helping Rose and Paige.” 

“Ooooh,” Poe crowed with all the campiness he could muster, “Was there a reason we didn’t know you were inviting someone over?” He tugged at her tank top. “Hanging out in your pyjamas, even! Looking forward to us being gone to have a guest over, hey?” 

Kyla’s breaths started coming short and raspy. What was happening? What had she been thrown in the middle of? This was too much, too soon, no warning, too loud, too many people, too surprising, too overwhelming. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She started rocking back and forth. She couldn’t have a meltdown here. She couldn’t. Couldn’t time rewind three minutes? Just three minutes? Before there were men that she didn’t know very well with waggling eyebrows and pointed innuendos and…

“Poe…” Finn warned. He had come up to stand behind his boyfriend. Before even the day at the park, Rey had sat the two boys down and given them the very briefest overview of how important it was to treat Kyla really well. It was too clear that not enough people ever had before. Rey wanted to change that. She needed to change that. 

“What?” Poe shrugged. Words were still coming from his mouth; why were words still coming from his mouth. “It’s about time. We all know how much of a thing Rey has for….”

“Poe, you asshole!” Rey jumped to her feet, coffee sloshing on the table as she put the cup down too hard. “Seriously? Back off, okay?!” The anger in her voice made Poe take a step back and made Kyla flinch. Yeah, Poe might be okay with fucking anything with a pulse - at least he had been before Finn showed up in his life - but dammit, he of all people should get that there were some things that just couldn’t be joked about. 

“Woah, okay, sorry.” Poe held his hands up in defense. 

Rey grabbed Kyla’s wrist in one hand as she dragged her away down another long corridor that led from the living room. Rey’s other hand thrown high with middle finger raised proudly. Kyla was helpless but to follow, barely grabbing her backpack, too overwhelmed to do anything else. Her tea was still on the coffee table. She was just ushered away and shunted into a bedroom. She dropped her bag on the floor. A step behind her, Rey leaned back to yell down the corridor.

“We WILL be talking about this later, Poe Dameron!” A breath, a huff. Then, slightly less furiously, “Hi and bye, Finn. Sorry!” Poor, long-suffering Finn. 

A heartbeat later, the two young women were in what had to be Rey’s bedroom with the door shut firmly behind them. Her eyes were narrowed and watery, and her bottom lip trembled furiously. She leaned back against the door. 

“I’m so sorry about that!” Rey was suddenly way too close, fussing like a mother, hands twitching as she went to tuck Kyla’s hair back, but then pulled away, uncertain. They hovered like birds between them, those small, strong feminine hands. “I didn’t expect Finn and Poe to be home before this evening, and I only invited you over when they weren’t home coz I thought it would be more comfortable for you not to have to socialize with them if you didn’t want to, and I swear I didn’t mean it they way they implied, and I can go put on normal clothes if you’d rather, and we can forget any of this happened, and I understand if you just wanna go home, and….” 

Kyla gave her head a violent shake, trying to clear her thoughts. There was still too much happening too quickly, and she couldn’t deal with it. She felt like a computer with an error reading. Rey’s mouth snapped shut. 

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled. 

“Just… gimme a moment. No… Please… Just… Don’t talk. Please.” 

“Of course.” Rey went over and sat cross-legged on her bed. After a moment, she raised her brows at Kyla and patted the spot on the duvet half a metre to her right. In a haze, Kyla sat on the edge, her long, lanky legs resting easily on the floor. She looked down at her hands, closed her eyes, and breathed. She just breathed. In… out…. Calm. She could be calm. She had to be calm. She tried all the techniques her uncle had taught her so long ago to bring herself back under control. 

When she could breathe, she expanded her focus outward, picking up the little details of Rey’s room, centering herself in the space. There were pressed flowers in a dry vase on top of a bookshelf as packed as Kyla’s. The days were neatly crossed out on a plain, metal year planner. Tech bits and tools littered the floor. It was a messy room, a lived-in room, a welcoming room. Inexplicably, she felt safe here. It was easy to be calm here, even with all the cluttered chaos. 

Kyla had no idea how long it took her to calm down. She felt a little shaky still when she came back to the moment, but she could feel Rey’s gaze on her, and to take any longer would just make her anxious that her new friend was judging her. Neurotypical people always underestimated how much sheer energy it took to be ‘normal’. They also did not react well to seeing what ‘not normal’ really looked like. 

But, there was no judgment in Rey’s eyes when Kyla looked up. There was no anger or frustration or disgust. There was just confusion and concern. She didn’t understand how Rey could be so patient with her. 

“Are you okay? What can I do to help?” 

Kyla didn’t know how to respond. She had never been treated so gently as Rey treated her. She just shrugged. 

“I’m fine. Just… yeah. Can we change the subject?” She was surprised that the sentence had come out of her mouth. She wasn’t usually so… vulnerable around other people. Though, hell with it, she had been unforgivably vulnerable around Rey already. What difference did one more sentence make? 

“Sure.” Rey tucked her legs to her chest and rested her head on her knees, her arms wrapped around herself, “Whatcha wanna talk about?” 

“I… I thought….” Kyla started, hesitant, “I thought that maybe, after the thing at the library didn’t go so well, that we could… we could swap each other’s favourite books.” Her words gained momentum as they were spoken. “Like, I give you my copy of my favourite book and you give me your copy of your favourite book, and then when we both have read them, we can meet up again and talk about them.” 

Rey’s smile really was like sunlight. 

“That’s a great idea!” But, then her shoulders slumped. “Now I’ll just have to pick ONE favourite book.” 

“Yeah, I did remember that picking one favourite wouldn’t be easy,” Kyla said with the smallest laugh, “It took me a really long time to pick just one as well.” 

“Did you bring it with you today?” 

Kyla nodded as she reached for her backpack on the floor of Rey’s room. She pulled an old, tattered, black hardback from the main pocket. It was the Wisehouse Classics 1831 Revised Edition, a treasured find in a second-hand store years ago. 

“Frankenstein,” Rey cheered, “I’ve always wanted to read it! It’s like the ultimate first monster fic!” She laughed, holding her arms out in a parody of a zombie, swaying comically. “AARGHHH! AHRRGRRRRR!”

“Yeah. Monster.” Kyla looked away from Rey and down at the cover, at the grimacing visage of the creature, both beautiful and beastly. She should have known. She shouldn’t be surprised by the jolt of pain. She touched its long, black hair, its prominent brow bone, its hooked, misshapen nose, its thin, yellowed skin stretched like parchment over its bulging, flaccid muscles. Without thinking, she began to sing in her breathy bass-baritone, stretching for the high notes, nearly rumbling in the low notes, “Now here is a riddle to guess, if you can/ sing the bells of Notre Dame. Who is the monster and who is the man/ sing the Bells. Of. Notre. Dame.” 

Kyla glanced up to see Rey looking at her with a peculiar expression, one she couldn’t begin to decipher. 

She hadn’t thought this through very well, had she? She had come up with the idea of bringing a book because of the literary theme that had run through their interactions since that conversation at the park: the conversation starter she had memorized, because books tell you so much about the person who reads them, and she wanted to know more about this wonderful young woman with the blinding smile and burning sense of justice. 

She hadn’t realized that that would also mean that Rey would be able to see into her, too. 

“What?” Kyla didn’t mean to come across as so defensive. 

“I know my asking didn’t go so well in the library, but you seem to have thoughts on the book. Can I ask about them? You don’t have to, if you don’t want to, but… yeah.” She paused. “Also, you have a beautiful voice.” 

Kyla hesitated, her plush lips parting, her eyebrows furrowing low, her eyes taking on a guarded expression similar to the one she had in the pub. Did Rey not realize what a juxtaposition her two thoughts were? To call Kyla’s voice beautiful but mock the monster’s voice? She pictured Rey, staggering around, waving her arms about, laughing at the image of the creature. She heard the echo of the brunette’s mocking growls. Even if Kyla didn’t say anything else, she felt like she had to clear up that misconception. 

It was something she felt very strongly about, after all. 

“In the book, the monster wasn’t a monster. He was intelligent. He had interesting thoughts on things. He taught himself to read and speak. He only became a monster because people  _ treated  _ him like one. He was abandoned and scared and didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t even given a name. By the end of the book, he was so angry, and still all he wanted was just to be left in peace with someone else like him.” Her eyebrows warped at the inner corners; her mouth twisted up in the middle, pained. Her lower lip began to tremble. She hated how her every expression played across her face, and she fought to bring her features back under control before continuing. “He has this whole monologue in the book about not wanting to be a monster, that was basically the theme of the whole story, and yet even in real life, people saw what he looked like and assumed he was too stupid to even speak. So, that’s how we know him.” 

“We have the book right here,” Rey suggested, her voice soft and low. On one level, she thought she knew where the pain in Kyla’s words came from, and her insides wrenched with a horrible twist of sympathy and guilt. “Could you find that section for me? I’d like to read it, too.” She understood what it was to be abandoned and alone and scared, and looking at the depth of emotion in Kyla’s eyes, she felt pity for her… and the creature, too. 

Kyla flipped open to the Table of Contents, then to the Creature’s Narrative section, and then skimmed pages until she found the passage she was looking for. There was a crease in the spine from the many times she had opened the book to this place. She read aloud, her deep voice emotive and passionate and fluid, the old words rolling around her mouth like round river stones. She had read these words many times.

“All men hate the wretched. How, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! Yet you - my creator - detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You purpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life? Do your duty toward me, and I will do mine toward you and the rest of mankind. If you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and you at peace, but if you refuse I will glut the maw of death, until it be satiated with the blood of your remaining friends. 

Have I not suffered enough that you seek to increase my misery? My life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it. Remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself. My height is superior to thine, my joints more supple. But I will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to thee. I am thy creature and I will be ever mild and docile to my natural lord and king, if thou wilt also perform thy part which thou owest me. 

Oh, Frankenstein, be not equitable to every other and trample upon me, to whom thy justice - and even thy clemency and affection - is most due. Remember that I am thy creature, I ought to by thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers are my refuge. I have wandered here many days. The caves of ice, which I only do not fear, are a dwelling to me, and the only one which man does not grudge. These bleak skies I hail, for they are kinder to me than your fellow beings. 

If the multitude of mankind knew of my existence, they would do as you do and arm themselves for my destruction. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will keep no terms with my enemies. I am miserable, and they shall share my wretchedness. 

Yet it is in your power to recompense me, and deliver them from an evil which it only remains for you to make so great that not only you and your family, but thousands of others, shall be swallowed up in the whirlwinds of its rage. Let your compassion be moved, and do not disdain me. I was benevolent and good. Misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.”

Kyla closed the book.

“Oh… oh, wow. The poor creature.” Rey had tears in her eyes. Kyla squirmed again. “That’s… wise.” 

“Yeah. It is.” 

It was usually hard for Kyla to meet people’s eyes, but she found herself gazing into Rey’s, pulled down to a depth that she had never before traversed with another person. Silence crystallized around the moment like the skin of a bubble. The intensity burned and froze down to the core, and Kyla was so sure that the pain would come a heartbeat later, but it didn’t. It felt like standing on the edge of the precipice, and suddenly, the gap between them had closed and Kyla plummeted down into a crystal rock pool, down through layers of heat and chill. Rey’s lips were on hers. They tasted like sunlight and fresh grass and warm linen, and of course Rey would taste like summer and light and all things that Kyla was not. 

All things that Kyla was not. Kyla was not a romantic. She was not lovable. She was not deserving. Even Frankenstein’s monster knew not to wish for the love of anyone better than him. 

She pulled back, yanked from the crystal pool and into cold, harsh air with a gasp. Her eyes were wild, scared. She saw the same emotions in Rey’s eyes. Seconds stretched like a rubber band, tension in every moment, ready to sting when it finally snapped. 

“Why?” The word was a breath, a gust almost lost in the room. Kyla’s mind was whirring. Her eyes darted across that face that had become so familiar to her: those upturned eyes and small nose and parted lips, that high forehead and those little curls of hair by her ears, that face as open as the sky. She loved Rey. She loved her, and it scared her to death. “How?”

Why what? How what? Rey couldn’t voice the “what do you mean” that she thought. She didn’t have to. She didn’t know who had begun it, but they were kissing again, deep and fierce, and she didn’t want to think about anything else. Kyla kissed with the same all-consuming passion that she did everything, probing and reckless and so, so gentle. Her fingers had spidered up into Rey’s hair, and for once, Kyla didn’t mind her mannish hands because it meant she could cradle Rey’s head like a priceless treasure, fit the nape of her neck in the curve of her palm, rub the little hollow at the base of her skull and feel Rey sigh into her mouth. 

Until Kyla felt her body begin to betray her, that obscene beast she tried to hide under white tape and black cotton, that irrefutable core of her self-hatred. It was a reminder as cutting as a twisted knife. This was the very reason she had promised herself she wouldn’t allow herself to love anyone; Kyla couldn’t bear anyone seeing her body, she was destined to a life as a tease, she couldn’t give anyone what she would be expected to give. Rey deserved someone who could give her everything. She deserved every pleasure, every show of love. Kyla couldn’t give her that. 

Kyla pulled back, breathing hard, trying not to cry. She just wanted one good thing to happen to her without being ruined by who she was.  _ You mean  _ what _ you are _ , the cruel, little voice in her head corrected,  _ Monster. _

“I… I’m sorry…. I don’t…. I want.... But….” She tried to steady her breathing. It had worked before, in the living room. She hoped it would work again. It had to. 

Rey leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. When Kyla spoke, her words warmed Rey’s lips and froze her heart. 

“I didn’t want to…. I tried so hard not to…. I don’t want to hurt you….. I… I can’t do this….” Her words came gasping, fought through the squeezed pipe of her too-prominent throat. A single tear splashed down onto Rey’s cheek. “I can’t do this. I don’t want you to hate me.” 

“I don’t hate you.” Rey’s hand came up, cupping Kyla’s face, thumb smoothing over that high, angular cheekbone, brushing away the tears. She had never liked the cliché broken-heart; she’d never understood that that really was what it felt like, like her heart was a fragile, glass thing that could be shattered by a single, breathy sentence.  _ I can’t do this.  _ Looking at this beautiful, troubled, amazing woman - this woman she had saved and wished she could save again - and seeing so plainly the hatred spilling like blood from the cracks in her façade, Rey wished so hard that she could wipe the pain away like tears, soak up the trauma and throw it away, mop up the mess that Kyla had been left in and pour it back into the person she had been. “I could never hate you.” 

“You don’t know that.” Foreheads still pressed together, Kyla turned her face away, as though it would stop Rey from seeing her misery. 

“Yes, I do.” Rey’s voice was quiet, steady, sure. She lifted her chin, her mouth a breath from Kyla’s, but the goth woman pulled away, shaking her head violently. 

Recoiling, Kyla looked like a wild thing, cornered, scared, trembling. She curled defensively at the foot of Rey’s bed. Her lipstick was smeared down her chin, her eyeliner streaky at the edges. Her hair was coming loose. For a terrible moment, Rey was back in a stinking bar bathroom, coaxing a vulnerably hostile stranger from the bloodstained floor. 

“You’re safe here, okay?” Rey’s hands fluttered vainly. Her default was comfort through touch, but that wasn’t the right thing to do right now, and she felt useless and clumsy. “You’re safe. You’re safe with me. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m sorry.” 

“I should go.”  Kyla stood, swaying on her feet, her shoulders curling in again. Her movements were rushed, hasty. She seemed desperate to get away. It made Rey want to scoop her up in her arms and promise that she really was safe. Kyla really had reverted back to that scared girl in the bar, and Rey cursed herself for being the cause of that fear. “I’m sorry. I just… I should go.” 

Rey didn’t know what to say. She just nodded sadly as Kyla grabbed her bag and ran out. The battered copy of Frankenstein was left behind on the floor. She couldn’t bring herself to go after Kyla to return it. She just stared blankly, swollen eyes blurred on the front cover, on that nameless monster curled on the floor. She heard the front door slam a second later, and then Finn running into the room, asking what had happened. She didn’t respond. 

She had been so hopeful. She had been so happy. 

Rey was tough. She was resilient. She was iron-willed and fearless. She had lived through trauma and abuse and neglect since she was five years old. She’d been in therapy for a decade. She hadn’t cried in years; she hadn’t needed to. 

Lying in the dark, seeing Kyla in the shadows of the moonlight, Rey cried that night. 


End file.
